Sincerely Yours
by West Trekker
Summary: The Valar would like to address the Mary Sues!


Sincerely Yours

Hello.

My name's Kathila, and I'm a Mary Sue. I possess flawless skin, beautiful hair, and a chest to die for. I was sent to Middle Earth to insure the fall of Sauron and because of my subconscious desire for a place to call home and to find true love. Naturally, with great shows of heroism and heart-rendering speeches, I single-handedly saved the Fellowship from the evils of Mordor. Prince Legolas loves me, Boromir was saved from certain death, and Aragorn and I act like long lost brother and sister.

As for the hobbits, oh what darling creatures! How could I let sweet Frodo carry that horrendous ring all by himself? Of course I had to help. Together we shared the burden. Every weekend and every other Wednesday I would take the ring. The humble being that I am, not once did I complain, but how could I? Being from another realm I was not affected by the lure of the ring. Together, the Fellowship and I completed the journey and I made a life-altering self-discovery. Turns out I'm half elf, so I can live happily ever after (quite literally) with my lover, Legolas.

Now I reside within the walls of the Great White City with my Prince Charming, sighing in happiness and telling great tales of my journey to Aragorn's subjects, and having afternoon tea with Arwen as our newly-wed husbands attend to the task of restoring Middle Earth to what it was.

Hah, bloody, hah.

Now that we have your attention, do people honestly think that is how things work? Well, if this is the case, please let us set things straight.

No.

Chance.

In.

Hell.

You want to know what happens to the giddy little fangirls who use their powers to whisk themselves off to Middle Earth? Yes? No? Well too bad. We're going to tell you, anyway.

When first arriving in Middle Earth, a Mary Sue finds herself in the middle of bloody no where. Not soul in sight. There is moaning and groaning and pissing and wining from the Mary Sue, some giddy rapture from the truly disillusioned ones, and then later comes the thinking. She realizes she must get the hell out of Denmark, or at the very least, out of the stupid field. Then the marching commences because, after all, she has to find civilization somewhere. If she's lucky, the Mary Sue just dies. Whether it's from starvation, being eaten (by wild creatures), suicide, falling, accidental stabbings, sunstroke or frostbite (varies with the season), the good old common cold, or blood loss from the attempt to eat one's own arm, the sooner the better. However, there are some hardy fools who over come and/or avoid these obstacles and do reach a form of civilization. And it can be certain that it is not an elvish kingdom that just so happened to inhabit one hot, sporty elf or a cold, blank-faced, lusciously-lipped elf, either.

The Mary Sue has entered man-country.

At first the Mary Sue attempts to seek out an elf or highly famed mortal (i.e.: Aragorn, Eomer, Price Theodred, and/or Boromir) but soon finds out this is utterly impossible. The Mary Sue is not only clueless on how to support herself, but doesn't know a lick of the local lingo. Needless to say, the Mary Sue is a lost cause. Because here is the truth of the Mary Sues, ladies and gentlemen. They don't have special powers. Gasp! Oh the horror! The Mary Sue is not all knowing! The Mary Sue can't pull so much as a piece of bread or a bloody bow out of her ass! Shame! Now you see why we deemed it better if they dropped like flies from the very beginning.

But our guinea pig Mary Sue is persistent and forces herself into the everyday life of the town, which will be known as hence forth as Town. A couple of years down the line she has finally learned a decent bit of the local lingo, evaded The Random Orc Attacks, cooked edible sustenances, and managed to sew dresses together without sewing them to her hand. Our steadfast Mary Sue is living it up.

Not.

What the Mary Sues comes to realize is that the very little, very precious knowledge she obtains is like pulling teeth from a shark. You're lucky to make it out with both hands. You see, our Mary Sue is not of the realm of Middle Earth. The people can sense it, they just know there is something off kilter with the odd little girl. So the townspeople of Town ostracize the Mary Sue, give her looks and spit at her when she enters the market, and call her a witch. At night, youngsters throw rocks at her pitiful excuse of a shack. The people swear she was a spawn of Sauron, so out-of-place and terrible is the vibe that the Mary Sue emits.

When nearly fifteen years have passed (how foolish to live so long!) the Mary Sue has lost all hope of returning to her own world. Of seeing an elf. Of destroying the One Ring all on her lonesome. Of finding love, period. She is old and worn from the harsh life she was not meant to endure and lives alone with her bitter contempt for the people of Town. No man will marry her, swearing she is cursed- mad with her outbursts in a strange speech and cries for "a toilet! Television and whirlpools! I want to go back to Kansas!" But alas, there are no ruby red slippers and she is doomed to live the remainder of her life alone, regretting her foolish ambition to have ever wanted to come to Middle Earth in the first place.

But she will not endure for much longer. Her hair is already gray, her teeth yellow, and her skin is leathery. She grows weak and deep frown wrinkles imbed themselves in her face. Everyday the Mary Sue is racked with horrible coughs, each one convulsing her entire body. The Mary Sue is ill and will soon die, alone and elf-less.

As you see, there is no glory, no peace, and no love for Mary Sues in Middle Earth. They are all doomed from their first step. So please oblige our request: do not become the Mary Sue and enter our realm. Stay away from Middle Earth. You can be assured that any fangirl who attempts to implant themselves within the lives of Middle Earth, especially those of the Fellowship, can be guarantee that the greater powers will not approve with the interference. You have been warned.

Sincerely Yours,

The Valar

p.s- We don't own nothing, just create it.


End file.
